


Dearest Oda Toshinori

by jolimelon



Category: Battle Royale - Takami Koushun
Genre: AU, F/M, Letters, No Program AU, POV First Person, short series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolimelon/pseuds/jolimelon
Summary: In the late summer, Toshinori Oda receives a series of four letters from Izumi Kanai.





	1. The First Letter.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely inspired by Your Lie In April, and I thought it would suit Toshinori and Izumi very well. Hope you enjoy!

Dearest Oda Toshinori, 

As I write this, it's a crisp spring morning, in early April, but by the time you read this, it will likely be late summer. I can't say for certain, of course, but that's my best estimation.

I have a lot to say, perhaps even too much, and yet when I bring pen to paper the words completely scramble from my mind, leaving what I write all over the place. I hope that, at the very least, this makes some sense. 

Do you remember the first time we met? I've always wanted to ask you this, the question lingering in the back of my throat, but I kept it to myself all this time. I don't understand why, either. It's not that I'm scared to ask, or that I think the memory is unpleasant, it's nothing like that. The reason is unknown even to myself, but now, I want to tell you, so that incase you have forgotten it will make you come to understand some things, or if you do remember than I hope it is as pleasant of a memory to you as it was for me. 

It was a midsummer night, after a few rainy days had left the earth dewy and the smell of wet grass was still strong in the air. There were few grey clouds remaining in the sky, but finally the stars were visible for the first time in what had felt like forever. The moon was not yet quite full but it was well on its way, the light still trickling down and casting a cool glow against the earth. To put it simply, it was a beautiful night out. 

At this point, my father had been talking for a few days about some party of a friend of a friends, something along those lines. It wasn't an unusual thing for my father to discuss, so I had stopped listening to the specific details. For appearance sake, naturally, my mother and I were to attend alongside him, and when prompted, encouraged to speak highly of him both in a professional and a personal sense. _"He's always so serious about work, but that never stops him from providing so much for the family!"_ That sort of thing. It's not as if my father is horrible or anything but I'm sure you can relate when I say that it gets tiring feeling like a broken record at each dinner and party, and so on and so forth. 

It was an hour into the party, maybe even a little later than that, when I first caught a glimpse of you. You looked so miserable at the time, as if you wanted to be anywhere but there. And, I hope you don't think I'm cruel for saying this, but it made me smile a little. Not because I found pleasure in your unhappiness, but because, for the first time in so long, I finally felt as if there was somebody at one of those parties that (even if only for a fleeting second) I could relate to. By that age, I had grown so accustomed to attending these 'grown-up' parties so often that I had convinced even myself that I was enjoying them when the truth was so much more complicated than that. 

The party continued onward, and the same conversations repeated over and over again, only this time, the image of your scowling face kept reappearing in my mind and it resonated deeply with me. Several times, I held back giggles during such serious conversations, and it was brushed off simply as _"Teenage girls, what can you do about them?"_ I do hope you're not offended by me saying all this because I really do not mean it in a malicious way! Somehow it almost helped make the same tedious repeated conversations seem a little more bearable, knowing it was not a burden I suffered alone. 

Later into the evening, I excused myself to use the washroom and, after being courteously given the directions by one of your lovely servants, was making my way in the proper direction when a particular noise caught my ear. The distant sound of classical music. But it wasn't a recording on a cassette or a tape, it was the live thing. Before I realized it, my feet were leading me to the source of the music. The closer I got, the more I began to clue in. It was the violin, and, as I would later learn, was a rendition of Chopin's Nocturne in C minor. Peeking my head into the room to catch a glimpse of the mystery musician, I soon realized I was looking at the scowling boy from earlier on in the afternoon- That's right, it was you! I watched in complete awe, my previously wandering feet now grounded firmly in position, and I did all I could to remain silent so as to not disturb the flow of the music. 

How can I say this? Perhaps my words are not elegant enough to fully capture what I felt in that moment, but a sense of pure ease had taken over my body. The melody was so elegant and refined, but in no sense did it come across as boring and plain. You played with a certain aura, as if you truly loved the music and had put many tough years of training into perfecting it. 

I almost felt as if I were intruding on a personal moment, but I couldn't will myself to turn around. Not until the song ended, that is. As the music came to a stop, you had raised your arm holding the bow into the air triumphantly with a proud smile on your face. I found myself smiling along with you- until our eyes connected. Immediately, my expression dropped and I gasped out-loud before running away just as quickly as I had arrived. You didn't follow me, you didn't even call out. It was a moment I'll never forget, but a moment we had never addressed, so I couldn't help but always wonder: 

**Do you remember?**

With much love, 

Kanai Izumi.


	2. The Second Letter

Dearest Oda Toshinori,

I'm writing to you again, letter number two in this series of letters in which I'll never receive a response to. But I don't mind that. I know exactly what you would say to me, and knowing is enough for me.

Following the last letter, I began to reminisce further and was reminded of our next encounter: the fateful first meeting, when we started the following new school year and were put into the same class.

It was almost an entire year after the party, and spring was in a beautiful full bloom as we headed into our final year of high school. The cherry blossoms decorated the streets once more, the path leading up to the school doors practically no longer visible. Maybe it's a little cheesy, but this time of year always struck a new hope in my heart, and it being our final year didn't help. I practically felt like crying entire days away, the thoughts of one day having to leave my friends leaving a sinking feeling within me. 

When we first made our way into our new classrooms, I immediately recognized you as the boy from the party, but there seemed to be no hint of recognition as you glanced at me. Or, maybe you did recognize me and just did a good job at hiding it. I like to think that you did, so I always tell myself that even if it may be a little far-fetched.

You never seemed to get along with our classmates very well, and I'm sure they all thought they were justified in speaking to you the way that they did. I always felt sorry for you, and I know you'll think it's a pain that I felt that way but I must be honest. _"I don't need anybodies pity. I don't care for their vulgar opinions and never have."_ You just thought that, didn't you? But I can't even begin to imagine how it felt. 

I digress. My intention isn't to upset you or to bring up unpleasant things, and I'm getting a little side-tracked here. I want to talk about the happy memories, the pleasant moments that brought us together slowly but surely. 

**The beautiful day in the music room.**

During music class that morning, you had showcased your skills to the class by performing a song on the violin. And at this point I still didn't know the name of the song but I knew without a trace of doubt in my mind that it was the song from the party. You had won a competition or two with that very song as well, hadn't you? Though a smile on your face was a true rarity, it would never fail to appear as you got lost in the music. The pride you had in your talent would continue to inspire me for years and years following.

After the class had ended, and our classmates rushed to enjoy every possible second of their break, you and I instead lingered around for a short while following. Only, you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you seemed to think that you were alone. You continued practicing the same song over and over, despite the fact that it (to my own untrained ears) sounded like professional perfection.

I watched you for some time, and I was always ever-so careful to make sure I left the classroom just a few moments before you so that you wouldn't catch me. It's sort of funny, now that I write this all down, a series of embarrassing confessions, I realize that I almost sound like a stalker. Believe me when I say that I'm surely not that type of girl in any way, and never had I ever found myself observing somebody in the way that I observed you. You intrigued me! First, musically, but then, as time progressed, I gained an interest in who you were as a person as well. So I made an ultimate resolution with myself. Before spring ended, I would approach you, and I would speak to you. If I failed at that, then I would no longer allow myself to enjoy your music and I would take my distance. 

But these things are somehow easier said than done, and before I knew it, the final day of spring was dawning on us and I had run out of time.

So there we were, for perhaps the final time, just you and I in the music classroom as I closed my eyes and listened to what felt like a farewell concert, dedicated only to me. Hardly a cloud was in sight against the delicate baby blue sky, the sun shining in on your back with your violin held against your chin, almost as if you were in the spotlight of a stage. With each chord that you played I found myself melting deeper into the nostalgia of the first night we had encountered one another, nearly a year prior at that point, and I was quick to get lost in the moment. The midsummer air, as I hid carefully by the entrance of the music hall while you played without the slightest clue that you had a small audience observing you. It all felt so familiar, so recent, like it was yesterday, like it was _today._

I didn't want to let go of the feeling- the experience I was having that not even you seemed to be aware that you were a part of. But I didn't have the courage to approached you, and so, not wishing to break my own resolution, I took my cue to leave as you started to play the final bit. I grabbed my bag, and as always, began to tip-toe my way to the door. Only, things were different this day. 

You suddenly stopped playing the song, and lowered the violin from your chin, your bow limply held in the other hand.

I found myself feeling chilled, my body unconsciously froze in place, unsure of what to say or do. 

And then, you turned to me. 

From the opened window next to us, a gentle breeze danced in, causing our hair and clothing to flutter rhythmically, and your music book to shut closed. My breathing had completely stopped, and I felt that all I could do was stare at you in surprise, awaiting your reaction. 

You blinked a few times, but I found your expression impossible to read. You hadn't looked angry. You hadn't even looked embarrassed or annoyed. Yet still, you left no single outward clue as to how you felt inside and I found it chilling. 

_"You've been here for awhile, haven't you?"_ You had finally asked me. Maybe those weren't your exact words, but they were along those lines. 

All I could do in response was nod my head, and another silent moment befell us, our eye-contact remained unwavering, your expression still impossible to read.

I found myself swallowing back, straightening my posture, and opening my mouth to explain myself. 

And then, as if it were my unexpected saviour, the school bell rang. I took no time to think my actions over as I cradled my bag close to my chest and dashed out of the classroom, not stopping until I reached the safety of the end of the hallway. I never stopped to look back, feeling embarrassed but somehow thrilled by what had just happened. 

After that, my resolution had only grown deeper. It had now become something stronger, something more daring.

For the next time we would meet, I would not only speak to you. I would also ask you an extremely bold question. 

With much love, 

Kanai Izumi. 


	3. The Third Letter.

Dearest Oda Toshinori, 

You'll have to forgive me for leaving my last letter off at such an abrupt point, the weather was very poor last night as I was writing and I began to feel unwell. Do you recall the way that spring showers always left my body feeling nauseated and light? That still hasn't changed, unfortunately for me. I quite enjoy the sound of rain, and the brisk wind would feel pleasant if not for the discomfort it brought along with it. I'll admit that it's a tad embarrassing to talk about, so I'll leave things there. More than anything, I'd like to occupy my mind with the memories we created together. 

I wonder if you find it redundant for me to be reiterating our first meetings to you, when you were also there to experience them, but I know that many people tend to forget first meetings, especially as the years pass them by as they have for us. I like to think back on those times, when we had no idea how young we truly were, the pressure of our senior year of high school leaving us all feeling as if life would simply end the second we graduated and that was it. Confined in the space of that school, I almost forgot that there was a world beyond those walls. In a way it's funny, despite only getting older as the years pass, with each birthday I can't help but feel a little younger than the last. Perhaps it's because there's so much pressure at the end of our teen years to be so grown up and mature, that by the time we enter our twenties we realize how vast the world truly is. We are still so young, and there is still so much to explore. _So much..._

I hope you've had many similar realizations as well. Once we open our eyes and have that epiphany that we're still youthful and have so much ahead of us, it feels liberating in a sense, doesn't it? And if nothing else, it at least lifts some of the pressure off.

There I go again, getting distracted for far too long on some unrelated topic! It's been so long, so I suppose I have a lot more I wanted to say than I realized. I'll get back on track now, though! 

The day you had spoken to me in the classroom was followed by a weekend, which gave me just the right amount of time to reflect on that afternoon and come up with a plan of action to follow. By Monday, I had a pretty solid idea of what I wanted to do, and just how I was going to do it.

That following morning in class, I had spotted you glancing over at me, but as my eyes connected with yours, you turned your head in the other direction. There was no doubting it at this point- you were aware of me and my presence as a person, and was also aware that I had an interest in your musical talent. 

Soon enough, we found ourselves wrapping up music class, and everybody else had left the room with the exception of you and I. You didn't bother grabbing your violin this time, instead turning to me. I didn't give you a chance to speak, as I boldly took a step forward and recited my words almost as if they were scripted. 

_"You're right, I have been listening to your music for some time now, and you're very talented."_ I had begun to say, my knuckles practically white as I clenched my fists tightly at my sides. _"Would you teach me how to play?"_

As the question finally escaped my lips, I could feel myself begin to hold my breath in anticipation of your response. 

That point is when the rain had started to fall. First, in small droplets against the window, it had quickly worsened into something much stronger while awaiting a reaction from you. Something. Anything. Perhaps only a moment or two had passed, but it had all felt like much longer.

And then you finally replied. Do you remember what you had said to me? 

Through furrowed brows and a vague sneer, you looked me right in the eyes and you said, _"Can you leave already? I'm sick of you disturbing my practices with your unnecessary presence."_

I wish I could say that I vividly remembered what happened next, but my memory of the whole thing becomes foggy after that point. I started to feel light-headed, and was taken aback so abruptly by your response. Never before had I been spoken to in such a way, and I could do nothing more than quietly leave. When I reflect upon this all the years later, I realize that that wasn't even the worst thing you could've said to me in that moment, that you are capable of saying so much worse, and so I should in a way feel relieved that you spared me the full extent of your malice. But in the moment, none of that occurred to me. I simply gave up.

Oda Toshinori, you are the worst person I have ever met. If only the hollow space in your chest held a stone ice heart at the very least, but you don't even have so much as that. You are cruel, and vicious and I understand now why you were avoided by all.

... are the words I thought to myself later on as I pouted at home. I scared you, didn't I? The truth is that, despite feeling upset, I know now that I was wrong to think along those lines. Because in the grand scheme of things, you owed me, a complete stranger, nothing.

I do realize that it sounds like I'm speaking ill of you here, and believe me when I say that that is far from my intent. I know you've grown so much over the years- you've matured into such a wonderful person that I can only think of fondly, even when our first conversation concluded in such a way as this. Reflecting upon it, I don't feel the sadness I did in that moment. Yes, it was a crushing moment. It was as if I finally understood the phrase, "never meet your heroes", but after the events that followed this particular day, I never believed in that phrase again. 

A week after that rainy day in the music room, we received a peculiar assignment from our teacher, Mr. Hayashida. I'm sure you remember him. He was a lovely teacher, and so genuinely kind-hearted, which was such a rarity among the staff at our school. He had placed the entire class into pairs, and told us that we must learn a song together that we would then perform at an arts night concert hosted by the school, with all the friends and family that we wanted to invite. And I know, certainly without a doubt, that you remember this part. He had paired us together. At first I thought of what a shocking coincidence it was, but upon seeing Mr. Hayashida give me a large grin accompanied by his signature thumbs up, it was clear that he knew more than he had ever let on.

You were less than thrilled about this assignment, and very vocal about how you performed only solo without the 'weight of amateurs bringing you down' and I just let you go on. Eventually, you seemed to run out of steam and accepted your fate as the other half of a duet. Your only conditions were that you got to choose what song we performed, and who would play which parts. As a result, you allowed me to choose what colour we would wear to the performance, but of course it couldn't be any of the colours you disliked, such as: yellow, brown, orange, pink, green, certain shades of blue, and anything pastel. When I suggested red, you agreed to it-- albeit hesitantly. Nonetheless, you had agreed which in a way felt like a small victory of it's own. 

As for song choice, you had selected Chopin's Nocturne in C minor, which is the point where I finally learned the name of the song you had (at that point) spent over a year perfecting. The idea of a new player like me taking on such a challenge was intimidating to say the least, but you had assured me that you would be taking on the most complicated aspects of the song which took off some of the pressure for me.

After that, we began our practices together. We would work diligently all throughout the allotted class time, and then continue throughout our lunch break, easily losing track of the time. I was far from being a natural violinist, and the frustration of teaching a completely new player took its toll on you. I did my best to learn quickly, but I made many mistakes that you simply could not understand. You often scolded me for my lack of technique, and natural elegance. I simply didn't have the years of training and practice that you did, and it clearly showed. 

I then began to bring my violin home, with special permission from the teacher of course. I practiced for long hours, often missing meals and study hours. My mother and father had naturally grown concerned with this new fixation of mine, but ultimately were accepting so long as I still attended school each day and kept my grades up. I'll admit that my grades did suffer some consequence as a result of my negligence towards them, but that was something that I firmly believed I could remedy later on. In that moment, only one thing mattered.

Becoming a musician that you would not be ashamed to play alongside. 

The final days of our practices were intense and unforgiving. It felt as if we were part of a violin bootcamp, with you as the seriously hardcore instructor and me as the struggling pupil. 

The differences in our skills was still all too clear no matter how hard I tried or what approach I took. Your many years of experience shone through, and although I sounded fairly decent on my own, my rendition sounded like nails on chalkboard when played alongside yours. The idea of us actually performing as a duet was almost laughable- next to impossible, even. 

That's when I lowered my bow, mid-practice, head sunken in defeat as I stared blankly at the musical score in front of me. You continued to play the song completely unphased, always treating our practices as if they were true performances and _the show must go on._ As the song came to an end, you turned to glance at me, asking, _"What happened? You can't just stop in the middle of a performance. It's highly unprofessional."_

 _"It's impossible."_ That was all I could mumble in response. 

You raised an eyebrow, but offered no response to my words, so I continued. 

_"I'll never be able to play like you do."_

_"Of course you won't."_ You hadn't hesitated to respond, lifting your violin back onto your shoulder, resting your chin against it accordingly. _"Nobody will ever play like I do. Nobody will ever be me."_

I stared at you a moment, before silently following suit in lifting my violin to my shoulder, a strong cloud of discouragement still nagging at me. I brought my bow to the strings of the violin, barely touching the surface as you spoke again. 

_"You've made a lot of improvements, regardless. Considering that you're a beginner."_

I found myself staring at you once again, only now in wide-eyed surprise. The words weren't exactly soft, and some- **most** \- people would have considered it to be a backhanded compliment. But as I caught you looking away, avoiding contact with my eyes, your ears beginning to subtly turn to a soft red, I knew that your words were genuine.

I smiled softly, bow at the ready, careful to avoid addressing the compliment you had just given so as to not cause further embarrassment to you. 

_"Can we take it from the top?"_

You nodded your head, and so we continued to play until the school bell rang. 

***

The night of the school concert had arrived before we knew it.

Dressed in a black button-up dress shirt, and a bold red tie with your hair slicked off to the side, you easily resembled a professional player. I had worn a knee-length red dress with a pointed flat collar, and black nylon stockings. Together, our looks were very nicely matched, and visually we looked like the perfect duo.

We were scheduled to be the fourth duo to perform, following a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star performed on kazoos by Yuka Nakagawa and Yutaka Seto. It seemed like more of a comedy routine than a musical performance, which had caused a short few giggles from me as I felt bits of the pressure for us lifting away. However, as the song came to an end and our names were called on the stage, my stomach immediately twisted into knots again.

I gave you a brief look of desperation that you easily brushed off as you walked past me, violin at the ready. You sauntered on to the stage so boldly and confidently that I almost felt inspired to adopt the same attitude. I inhaled sharply, and took my position on the main stage. I glanced toward you, feeling strongly motivated and ready. You nodded your head to signify the beginning of the song. I nodded in response, and so we began to play. 

Chopin's Nocturne. The song that first brought you to my attention. The song I quietly snuck into the back of the music room to listen to. If only I could've gone back in time, to a year-- even a few weeks prior, and have told myself that I would one day perform the song alongside you. There's no way I would have ever believed such a wild tale. And yet, there we were. A silent crowd before us, the spotlight reflecting on us alone, only the sound of our music filled the room.

Halfway into the song, my nerves had more than vanished, and I even felt a sense of comfort standing up on that stage alongside you. It was a type of confidence that I wasn't accustomed to feeling but it was a lovely feeling. I'll never forget that night. For as long as I live.

As our song came to an end, the crowd was eerily silent for what felt like the longest few seconds of my life, until finally, they burst out into a roaring applause. I couldn't hold back as I grinned widely, almost missing my cue to bow as I felt happily overwhelmed by the positive response we were receiving. 

We soon made our way backstage, the smile still fresh on my face even as the next act was already entering the stage. You continued to walk until I reached forward, giving your shirt a gentle tug to stop you. Before you could object, I spoke. 

_"I just wanted to-- just... Thank you for everything. You've taught me so much and... I had so much fun. Thank you, Oda."_

And to this day, I still truly feel grateful for all the work you put into helping me, when I know what a burden it was to you. Thanks to you, our performance that day had gone by so swimmingly, and I'll forever be proud of us!

But... the true fun didn't begin until after that night had passed by, isn't that right?

I'll have to save that for next time. I'd hate to keep you reading for too long.

With much love,

Izumi Kanai. 


	4. The Final Letter.

Dearest Oda Toshinori, 

We've finally arrived at the final letter, and I'm feeling a little bittersweet upon remembering the journey that we took together. There's so much more I have left to say but I told myself that I wouldn't exceed four letters, and so I must remain a woman of my word. 

The incredible thing is that it took me three letters to reflect on our high school memories together, when our real journey began after we had already graduated. I suppose this shall end up being a long letter as a result, but it's a note that I'll be happy to leave things on. To receive closure and peace by the end of this is all that I can aim for. I hope you feel the same way. 

After our school performance, I wasn't feeling a long-lasting satisfaction as I had hoped I would. I couldn't understand why, especially after I had received everything that I had wanted from the beginning. Maybe I was a touch harsh on myself, and I knew that I had tried to the best of my abilities, but I still didn't view my performance as having been worthy of accompanying yours even if it were just for a school-run concert. Because of this, I avoided meeting eyes with you for the few following days in class. Every now and then, I could feel our gaze fall upon me and I fought so hard against myself to make sure that I didn't return the glance. 

Our school year was rapidly coming to a close at that point, so distracting myself wasn't always so difficult. Helping Yukie and the girls by preparing for our graduation ceremony was a great way to keep my hands and mind busy. Even so, in the simplest of moments, I would find myself humming Chopin as I mindlessly performed redundant tasks. In the littlest of ways, it's as if you were there with me.

As I helped sweep the surface of the dusty old stage, you were there.

As I shakily climbed a tall ladder to hang our class banner, you were there. 

Even as I held a packaged graduation gown with tears in my eyes at the thought of soon leaving my high school life, you were there. 

But not in the physical sense of the word. Not even mentally, or emotionally. 

Rather... musically, you were there. 

For me, Chopin was reborn. Music that I had otherwise never given a second thought to was now baring a new existence, and it was you. The same song was constantly playing throughout my mind with no sign of stopping any time soon. I knew deep down that there was something I had been left feeling dissatisfied with, and I didn't know how much longer I could bare to feel this unhappiness with myself. Even so, my distance with you only grew until finally, graduating day had arrived.

It was a day without any incidents. No fumbled speeches, or slips on the stage. It was a ceremony befitting for the many years of school work and early mornings that we had to endure. I remained dry-eyed until Yukie recited her beautifully-worded valedictorian speech, and tears began to pour down my face along with a few other girls sitting around me. It began to sink in more than ever that all of us no longer had any time left together. There was no time left at all.

I'll have to be honest with you, since I promised that I would be in these letters. Even then, I was aware, though not as certainly as I am now, that I was a girl with limited time. From a young age, I had to develop this mindset that every moment counted, and any chance I missed out on could very well have been a final chance. There were many things I had missed out on, and I just wasn't ready to let them go. So in that moment I knew that I couldn't keep the distance up anymore. What if this was the last time we would ever see each other? I had so many things left to say, and good-bye wasn't one of them.

After the ceremony came to an end, our classmates did one of two things: immediately run off, never to be seen again, or linger a while longer to mingle for the last time. Assuming you were more likely to be of the former group, I sought you out as quickly as I could, but you were nowhere to be seen in the crowd. I wondered if I had been too late, mentally punishing myself for not moving faster. _Oh why--why did I have to wear these suffocating heels?_

It was then that my search was cut short, as a voice from behind me interjected, _"Kanai? I need to speak to you."_

Before I could even turn around, I knew that the voice belonged to the one and only Oda Toshinori. I turned to you with a smile, but beneath it I was feeling an uncertain anxiety at what you could possibly want to say. I had easily assumed that you were done with me after the concert had drawn it's conclusion, and yet here you were, requesting to speak with me. I nodded my head slowly, and then you led me off into a reclusive hallway where the crowds wouldn't hear us.

 _"Is everything alright?"_ I had asked right away

You must have sensed that I was worried because you gave a firm nod without hesitation. _"It's about the performance."_

Immediately my heart sunk as my biggest worries became a confirmed reality. _"I wanted to talk about it, too... And I'm so sorr--"_

You didn't let me finish my sentence. _"People were very fond of our duet. I'm a solo musician but something about being paired with a pre---"_ You cut yourself off that time with a cough. _"With a conventionally attractive female, seems to have boosted my popularity."_

I didn't reply to this. Lord knows, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

 _"People are shallow, more than ever these days. They don't care for real talent."_ You rolled your eyes, and I wasn't sure exactly what you were getting at. _"However, out of all of the musical partners I've been forced to play with, you are the least irritating."_

It was a compliment! From anybodies elses mouth it would sound insulting, but you've always expressed yourself differently from everybody else.

Before I could thank you, you continued to speak, and I couldn't help but noticed the tips of your ears and nose begin to glow red.

"Thanks to our performance, I've been formally invited to participate in a competition at the end of this summer. It's, erm, a duet competition." You hesitated to continue for a second. _"We would obviously need to practice all summer in order to be ready, but I supposed I will allow you to perform with me once more."_

My mouth fell open in surprise. I didn't know what to say, do, or even think in the moment. I was shocked, flattered, but ultimately perplexed. It dawned on me almost immediately that my summers were always pre-occupied. I spent them away with my mother and father at our cottage by the lake ever since I was a little girl. _"I---I sort of have plans all summer."_ I quietly responded.

You began to reply, _"Ah. Well, then---"_

 _"But I'll do it. I want to perform with you again. I want to do better this time. A performance that.... that we can both be proud of."_ It had been my turn to do the interrupting, which in turn left you as the shocked one.

The truth is that it wasn't a difficult decision for me to make. As much as I loved a relaxing summer away, I knew that my heart had not been currently satisfied and I was in no mood to begin my time off school feeling such a way. Even more so, I would have more time to spend with you-- getting to know the real Oda Toshinori, the you that nobody else had ever seen.

And so began the summer of Oda and Kanai's duo music! I began staying in your guest room while my parents hesitantly went off on vacation without me. They seemed relieved, at the least, that I was staying with a family of such high class, but I do think they appreciated the time alone and honestly, I did too. As we spent our days practicing together, it sometimes felt as if we were the only two people left on earth. It was a classy vision, just the two of us left alone to create beautiful music. My skills grew rapidly, thanks very much to your strict tutoring.

It was a beautiful summer that year. The humid days were few and far between, and even the hottest days had a refreshing cool breeze to ease the heat. On the finest days, we would go outside and perform in the garden, the beauty of nature as our backdrop.

I learned as much about you that summer as I ever could have hoped to. I met the Oda Toshinori that the world had never gotten the pleasure of meeting. You had a soft side to you that you kept hidden away, locked up for nobody to find. And I like to think that I'm the one who found the key, but never dared to use it without your permission. I allowed you to open up when you wanted to, and never forced you to say or answer to anything that I knew would make you close right up again. In turn, you stopped referring to me as an amateur, and never made any quick remarks about me in a negative way. That harshness of yours, as I have learned over the years, was just a shell to protect yourself from this harsh and cruel world.

I could easily spend every summer the way we did that year, practicing from early morning until the late hours of the night. I had fought passed the many frustrations of learning a new instrument and began to find enjoyment in the music. I only wish I had started to learn sooner. It was on a late august night, after we had decided to put our practice to rest, that you let a short comment slip. A few short words that I'll never forget.

_"I wish this summer could last forever."_

I could only smile in the moment and nod my head. I wished the same. If only that summer could last forever.

But you see, Toshinori, I am still living in that summer. My heart will exist there forever. And whenever I become scared, or upset, I close my eyes and there I am. The violin rested against my chin, a bow in my hand. Moonlight trickling in on both of us. Nobody else in the world exists. Only us, and the music.

Our competition soon met us at the end of summer, and I was feeling a surge of confidence that I had never before felt in my life. Despite the fact that most of the duos performing had been violin players for years, I knew that our relentless training had given me skills that could no longer be considered the work of an amateur. My only anxiety rested in the pressure to not make any mistakes out of nerves. The crowd we performed for at our school concert was a mere speck of dust compared to the grand audience of our competition.

I assume you must have sensed my nerves as you took a step beside me, looking me straight in the eyes and gave me a firm nod. We were both wearing our red themed outfits again, feeling that they may offer us some luck. I smiled back at you, and, for reasons I still can't quite explain, gave into impulse and clasped your hand in mine, hanging contently by our sides. You didn't resist the gesture, and only looked away, that hint of red returning to your face.

Our names were called second-last, and we unclasped our hands as we stepped onto the stage. It's a little bit of a blur to me, likely due to nerves, but you cued the beginning of the song, and we began to perform the very piece we'd spent hours upon hours practicing.

I wish I could say that I remember every magical second of the performance, but that would be untruthful. My mind thought over a lot of things instead. Things like... How many times we had played this song, how difficult it had been to learn, and how never once did you give up on me. Not even during our frustrating high school days when I didn't know one note from the next.

I felt as if I had blanked out, and by the time I had zoned back to reality, the song had come to an end. Unconsciously, my body had played the music without error, the chords having become second nature to me after our summer of practices. I felt guilt for not savouring the moment as I should have, knowing very well it could be our very last performance together. But the deed was done, and so I took my bow alongside you.

In the end, we had placed third, but mutually decided to not advance further in the competition. Neither one of us revealed our reasons for this, but I'll tell you mine now:

I was getting worse by the day, and I was fearful that I may reveal to you that I was---that I **am** unwell. I am a very private person when it comes to those matters, and I just... I didn't want to hold you back. I wanted you to advance naturally, on your own. To grow as a solo musician, the way you had always intended. You are wonderful, and you will continue to be wonderful.

You never told me your reason, and I won't pry. It's not as if I'd be able to anyway. We all have our own reasons for doing things, I understand that. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a bit curious, though.

This next part is the real reason I wanted to write you these letters, and maybe my summarizing our time together up until this point has already clued you in to what this is about, but...

Oda Toshinori, I am so sorry.

I can't say it loud enough, in words clear enough. I can't. But I simply must do my best.

I'm so sorry that I left you that night with no explanation, and not even a letter to explain my sudden departure. I wanted to, please believe me, but at the time my heart was too heavy with the thought of parting ways.

Our time together was so special, so different from anything else I've ever experienced before. I met the Toshinori that scarcely shows his vulnerabilities to the world, the man behind the cold and ruthless exterior. I am forever grateful that you shared that with me.

I saw the video of your most recent performance... when you hesitated to play my section of Chopin at your solo performance. The look on your face-- my heart was simply broken. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and I had to... I just had to reach out to you while I still can.

You must continue on gracing the world with your music. I beg of you. It is a much better place with it. Please... Play as you did before me. You must!

I now know with certainty that my time is coming to an end. With a shaky hand, I had to send you one last message to let you know what our relationship meant to me.

The only reason I didn't open up to you about it is because I didn't want you to see me like this, so please remember me as you last saw me.

The girl backstage with the longest black hair, and most expensive red dress. She holds your hand, and you hold it back. The girl who spent a summer playing music with you that made the rest of the world disappear. The girl who watched you each day in the back of the classroom as you privately rehearsed. The girl who couldn't stop her feet from leading her toward your music during a house party...

She is the girl I would like for you to remember. And she is the girl I ask you to forgive.

For everthing, I thank you. My words could never be enough. You helped me more than you could ever believe. _That summer **will** last forever._

I love you, Toshinori. And I really do mean that.

Did you love me, too?

With a soft heart, 

And Chopin still playing in my head,

For the very last time I say to you:

With much love,

Kanai Izumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is finally, the end! I hope you enjoyed this little short story! And if not, then man you sure just wasted a lot of time!


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